


Entrapping the Professor

by Lostinfantasies38



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bets Have Been Placed, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Trying To Hook Them Up, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Friends Are Screaming in Frustration, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Instant Attraction, Lawyer!Cullen, M/M, Men Crying, Modern Thedas, Not a Slow Burn But Not a Flash Fire Either, Professor!Alistair, Secret Crush, So is the author, When They Fall They Fall Fast, idiots to lovers, men kissing, quarantine au, roommate au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24937372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostinfantasies38/pseuds/Lostinfantasies38
Summary: Alistair needs a roommate and Eowyn Tabris has the perfect person in mind. Enter Cullen Rutherford, a friend from law school recently moved to Denerim.Cullen has harbored a secret crush on Eowyn's "brother" for years, though they've never met. He believes he's done a decent job of hiding it, but Eowyn isn't stupid. And thanks to Alistair, she has the perfect opportunity to get them together. Of course, none of her scheming will work if they can't see what's right in front of them.Bets have been placed, fingers are crossed, but it seems like there may not be hope for these idiots after all. It will take an act of the Maker to get them together.
Relationships: Alistair/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 32
Kudos: 23





	1. Alistair

**August 28, 9:41 Dragon**

“I think I need a roommate,” Alistair sighed heavily from under the arm draped across his face. Eowyn clicked her tongue at his melodramatic announcement. With a wicked smirk, she pressed the cold beer bottle to the side of his neck, giggling madly when he sat up with a shriek.

“Evil woman! Why do I put up with you?” he groused as he snatched the bottle.

“Because no one else will and I know all your secrets,” she simpered, sinking onto the curved chair that matched the cream sofa, tossing her bottle cap alongside his on the coffee table. “You have to put up with me, Alistair.”

Quirking an eyebrow, he swallowed and smoothly replied, “Do I? Childhood secrets will only get you so far in the media, dear.”

“Yes, but it’s not just childhood secrets I know, love.” They stared hard at one other, until Alistair’s mouth twitched, snapping their composure and sending them into peals of laughter.

“I’d never sell you out, Alistair. You were my only friend growing up and nearly thirty years later, you’re still my best friend.”

Taking her small hand in his, he raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I know, Eowyn. You are the one constant in my life, my staunch defender.” His hazel eyes twinkled merrily and she cocked her head, her lips thinning into a straight line.

“Don’t you say it. Don’t you dare,” she warned as his smile widened.

“My _little_ sister.”

She leapt up with an indignant screech and he hastily set aside his bottle in preparation as she tackled him against the couch and beat him with a pillow. Alistair chuckled throughout her onslaught until he tired of being smacked and caught her wrists gently in his large hands.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. You aren’t ‘little,’ merely younger,” he teased, hazel eyes sparkling with humor.

“By four months! Andraste, give me patience to deal with this buffoon I adopted when I was a kid, before I knew what an absolute brat he would be for the _rest of my life_!”

Smiling brightly at her, he released her hands and brushed back a lock of her ebony hair, tucking it neatly behind her pointed ear. “I love you, Evie.” He murmured the nickname he gave her as a boy, when the lisp he developed losing his two bottom teeth kept him from saying her name. “I’m sorry I don’t say it enough, but I mean it. You’re the only family I have and I know my humor annoys you, but what else are brothers for?”

The petite elf instantly melted, her mossy eyes shining with tears. “Oh, Ali, you know I’m only teasing you. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. You’re perfect the way you are.”

He snorted, and her features crumpled, a myriad of emotions flitting in her gaze. Sighing, she leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, her thumbs caressing his cheeks in soothing circles.

“You _are_ perfect, Alistair, and one day you will believe it. You’re an honorable man and there are few of those left. I know - I’m an attorney.” Eowyn smiled softly at his broken chuckle. Rubbing the tip of her nose against his in an elven kiss, she sat up and plopped on the couch. Joining her, they leaned comfortably against each other while they finished their drinks.

“So, why do you think you need a roommate?” she asked, setting aside her empty bottle.

Flinging his arm to encompass the living room, he sighed, “I’m in over my head. I splurged on this flat when it became available, but my professor’s salary is feeling the pinch.”

“If you need help, Alistair -”

Patting her knee, he shook his head with a warm smile. “No, I’m good right now. I have enough in savings to cover me, if I’m short. Which I haven’t been!” he rushed to assure her, though her frown remained. “I need a roommate so I don’t have to fret so much and might have some money left over to do something fun. If I didn’t need to teach over the summer to pay rent, I could take a fucking vacation.”

Eowyn nodded thoughtfully. “That’s reasonable. Do you need help to find someone? I know a few people who would be interested in a downtown flat.”

Scoffing playfully, Alistair grabbed his laptop. “You, my dear, have no faith in my abilities, whatsoever.” She rolled her eyes, and he stuck out his tongue as he powered up his computer. “Right, so I’ve done some initial research and found a few reputable sites to advertise a room for rent. If you help me come up with a flattering description and take some decent pictures of the flat, I’ll cook dinner.”

“Oh, is _that_ all I have to do?” she stated flatly.

“Not even for my famous coq au vin?” he asked with a cheeky eyebrow wiggle.

Her face lit up, and she snatched his laptop. “You, kitchen, now. I’ll get to work on this mess.” Alistair patted her crown with a chuckle and headed to the open kitchen.

“You know, the only good thing about that damnable mission in Orlais was that you finally learned how to cook. Like a master, too!” she exclaimed.

Alistair winced, grateful his back was facing her. “Yeah, crazy, isn’t it?” he laughed weakly as his stomach tied in knots. Immersed in her task, Eowyn thankfully didn’t notice his strained tone of voice.

Shaking himself, Alistair bustled about the kitchen, letting the multiple steps for the meal distract him. Once the entrée was in the oven, he set to work preparing a side salad and choosing a wine.

“Evie, love, do you want bread or are you worried about your girlish figure?” He smirked as she muttered under her breath.

“You should be more worried about yours, brother dear.”

Tossing a kitchen towel at her in affront, he sputtered, “I _know_ you did not just call me fat.”

Shooting him a saccharine smile revealing her tapered canines, she cooed, “No, I didn’t. I merely implied that should there be no bread with dinner _your_ figure will end up mysteriously in the harbor and you’ll have to walk home soaking wet. _Without shoes._ ”

Never one to test the feisty elven woman, he nodded curtly and opened the pantry to pull out an herb loaf. “Bread, got it.”

“Alistair, I have the description typed up. Read it over and make sure you approve. Where is your camera?”

Washing his hands, he reentered the living room, and waved down the hall. “Top shelf of my closet. Do you need -”

“I know where you keep the damn step stool, Alistair Sorin Theirin!” she yelled from the hallway. “Maker, help me, one of these days…”

He snorted in spite of the danger to his hide and read through her description, adding a few additional details. Granite countertops in the kitchen and the (as yet un-decorated) balcony that would be excellent for hosting parties. The major selling point of the flat however, were the floor to ceiling windows in the important rooms. A perk of a corner unit and the reason he dipped into his savings to secure it the moment it became available.

The alarm on his phone buzzed, and he hopped up to turn off the oven and remove their dinner. Eowyn flitted around the main room on tiptoe, tidying up and fluffing pillows, humming mindlessly as she worked. Taking a few shots of the living space from various angles, she smiled as she dashed down the hall to the second bedroom before she lost the light. He could hear the shutter click as she snapped the necessary pictures.

He smiled fondly as he plated their dinner and set the table. Her small hand fell on his larger one, halting him midway through uncorking the wine. With a grin, she set the bottle aside and pulled him toward the balcony.

“Come on, the sun is about to set and you need that picture for your advertisement.”

Framing the balcony in the shot, Eowyn snapped photos of the sunset over Denerim’s harbor, reflecting vibrant orange, red, and gold like an impressionist painting - a whimsical attempt to mirror the beauty of nature. Lowering the camera, she leaned against his side and tangled their fingers together.

“I love you, Alistair,” she sighed happily.

Warmth bloomed in his chest as he hugged her tight. “I love you, too, Eowyn,” he rumbled softly as they watched the sun disappear.

* * *

**Harvestmere 5, 9:41 Dragon**

“It’s been five weeks and I’ve had no luck finding a roommate,” Alistair whined through the phone. Eowyn’s trill of laughter curved his lips in a smile as he watched the play of sunlight on the ceiling from his position on the bed.

“You’ve had a _ton_ of responses, you’re just picky and have turned them all down. I thought you wanted to take a vacation sometime in the next age,” she teased.

“I do,” he protested, “but most of the people who inquired make barely more than I do! I don’t want them to be in the same boat. Or worse, up and leave one day because they bit off more than they can chew and then _I_ end up screwed.”

The elf sighed at his logic. “Fair point. Look, let me help you, Ali, please.”

Alistair groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Eowyn, no. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need your money -”

“Not money - contacts! Alistair, love, I _know_ people and every one of them can easily afford to go half on rent and utilities. Especially on a swanky downtown pad that is prime real estate for those of us who work here.”

He had to admit her idea had merit. Plus, her friends were not likely to be creepy stalker types, considering they were all attorneys. He knew her salary was cushy, too, since she owned a condo in another high-rise a few blocks away.

“Alright,” he sighed in defeat. “Who do you have in mind?”

Eowyn squealed so loud he yanked the phone from his ear with a grimace. “Maker’s breath, woman! What was that about?”

“I know the _perfect_ person! You’ll get along, I swear!”

Closing his eyes, Alistair waved a hand airily. “Well, come on, you’re obviously keen on this person. Tell me about them.”

“A friend from law school has recently moved to Denerim,” she chirped in her light voice. “He has temporary lodgings, but they’re too far from court and he’s keeping ungodly hours. A downtown location would be perfect for him and, like I said, he _can_ afford his half of the bills. Plus, he’s a friendly guy; genuine and funny - you’ll like him, I promise.”

“Does this friend have a name?” he teased.

“Sorry, I was just really excited,” she giggled. “His name is Cullen Rutherford.”

“Fereldan or Marcher? I take it he is our age, since you went to school together?”

“Uh huh,” she agreed, popping a can of soda in the background. “I think he’s a year younger, maybe? Close enough, anyway, and he’s Fereldan. No need to worry about any foreign influence.”

“Hmmm,” Alistair mused. Honestly, he sounded like a shoo-in and he knew Eowyn knew it. “Why have I never heard of him before if he’s such an excellent friend?”

There was a pause as she took a sip of her drink. “I try not to bore you with tales of people you don’t know. Just as you’ve made it a point to never share your Grey Warden stories, Ali. Not that I blame you, of course.”

 _Nor am I likely to_ , he thought morosely as he slammed the door on the bony arm trying to escape the closet. “Fair enough,” he conceded quietly.

“Anyway, I haven’t spoken to Cullen as much as I would like to since we passed the bar, but he was my closest confidant during law school. He took a position with a modest firm in Amaranthine straight out of school, but it wasn’t a suitable fit. He got in touch with me a few months back and I suggested he contact my firm about available positions for junior attorneys. His reputation as a lion in the courtroom garnered him an interview, but they didn’t make him an offer until a couple of months ago. Now, he’s here, and like I said, desperately in need of a better place. And _you_ need a roommate. Viola! Problem solved.”

Chuckling lightly, he said, “You know, you could have solved this problem by moving in with me, but _no_ , you had to buy a place with Zev. Traitor.”

She snickered. “Ali, do you _really_ want to hear us -”

“Stop! Stop right there! You _are_ my sister, blood relation or no, and I do _not_ want to know. Thank you very much.” Eowyn howled with laughter while he shuddered in revulsion.

“You... are... priceless,” she gasped between cackles.

Sighing in resignation, Alistair caved. “Fine, fine, show him the ad and give him the figures for what he will be responsible for. Oh, and give him my number so we can arrange a time to meet. Tell him text message -”

“Is preferred. Yes, darling, I know. He’s the same, for the record. If I call him, he will ignore me, but a text message gets an immediate response.” She huffed in aggravation. “I think it’s a man thing.”

Scoffing melodramatically, Alistair replied, “Madam, on behalf of all men, that is offensive. We are _not_ all the same. How dare you lump us all in the same ‘unthinking, unfeeling’ category?”

Alistair practically heard her eye roll. “Forgive me, good ser,” she snarked, “ _however_ shall I make up for this most grievous insult?”

Smirking wickedly, knowing she couldn’t pummel him, he spouted off, “I don’t know, make me a sandwich.”

He winced as soon as the words left his mouth, wishing he could eat them instead, even though they were in jest. Eowyn seethed silently for a few moments and he feared for a heart-stopping moment she thought he meant it. He opened his mouth to extract his foot, when she calmly stated.

“Your male privilege is showing, Alistair.”

Sighing with relief, he slumped into the mattress. “Maker, Evie, you had me scared there for a minute. I thought you took me seriously! ‘Make me a sandwich’ - the proper response is a kick to the bastard’s face.”

Trilling with exuberant laughter, she replied, “I had to make you sweat a little, or it’s no fun. Do you remember what's-his-name?”

“Kendalls!”

“Yes! What a prick. It was so nice when those kickboxing classes paid off and I roundhoused him square in the jaw.”

Alistair’s bark of amusement echoed around the room. “He lost three teeth, I think, but did he _ever_ have it coming.”

They spent another half hour on the phone until it was nearly time for Zevran to get off work. Alistair was happy for her, for both of them, and what they shared. His fiercely independent friend with her sharp tongue and nerves of steel hid her tender heart from most. Zev understood her - better than he did, Alistair knew - which stung, at times. As long as Eowyn had her Antivan boyfriend, she would never be alone, and he forcefully stomped the jealousy coiled in his gut at the thought.

The shadows stretched across the ceiling as the sun set over the city. Alistair tried to ignore the oppressive silence settling thick and cloying, like a wet wool blanket, muffling all sound and causing his skin to prickle uncomfortably.

Snatching his phone, he found a rock playlist and cranked the volume as loud as the tiny speakers would allow. Mouthing the words as the light faded, he pretended his lonely tears didn’t leave dark stains on the comforter.

* * *

**Harvestmere 6, 9:41 Dragon**

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Alistair slid off the edge of the desk he was perched on in the lecture hall.

“That’s all the time we have for today, I’m afraid. If you have questions, refer to my office hours or email me. Don’t forget there is an essay exam next week. The list of ten possible essay answers have already been uploaded to the class review page. I will choose only three for the essay, but which three, hmm?” He smirked as the class tittered softly. “Study them all since you have no way of predicting what the options will be the day of the exam. Now go, scram. I have to hoof it halfway across campus for my next lecture.”

Closing his power-point presentation, he stuffed his laptop and scattered notes in his messenger bag and slipped out the back door of the hall. Swinging by the lounge in the building, his face lit up to discover the other professors hadn’t devoured the bagels. Toasting one in the ancient device he feared might short circuit and burn down the building one day, he slathered the halves with cream cheese and wrapped it in a napkin to protect his clothes as he set out.

“Professor Theirin! It’s Wednesday, you know what that means!” He snorted and nearly choked on his bagel as he waited for the punchline. “It’s Hump Day! Hope you get some!”

“Yeah, you too, Jaxson, but please spare me the details,” he retorted. The cluster of kids chortled in his wake and he heard snippets of “he’s so cool," and “wish all the profs were like that,” with secret pride.

“Mr. A, what’s up!”

“See you tomorrow, Professor Theirin.”

Alistair continued to wave at those tossing him the occasional greeting as he crossed the sprawling campus grounds. Nestled on the outskirts of the city, the University of Denerim was blanketed with perfectly manicured lawns and three hundred-year-old oak trees. A little slice of green in the endless gray of the city skyline. The halls were stately and proud, miraculously surviving natural disasters and civil war through the ages. An example of history in modern times, which suited him perfectly.

Chucking his trash in the bin outside the building, he entered the hall and raced up the stairs to the second floor, slipping into his assigned room alongside the stragglers.

“Sorry, I’m late. They had bagels in the lounge and if you think listening to a history lecture on an empty stomach is bad, try _teaching_ on one!” He shivered dramatically to a round of chuckles as he set up his laptop and found the correct presentation.

“So, last class we were discussing the Orlesian occupation.”

* * *

Dropping heavily on his office chair, he draped his bag across the back and laid his head on his desk in exhaustion. A light tap sounded from the doorway of the broom closet the history department termed an “office” and he glanced up wearily, but his fatigue melted into gratitude when he recognized his visitor.

“You are a saint, Wynne,” he sighed as she passed him a steaming foam cup.

She smiled warmly, settling gingerly in the rickety chair across from him. “I had to come see how my former TA was holding up. Your first year as an associate professor! Three weeks in - are you exhausted, yet?” she teased, a knowing gleam in her blue eyes.

“Maker, please, tell me it gets easier,” he pleaded, only half joking.

Saluting him with her own tea, she chuckled, “I will let you know when it does.”

Chuffing a quiet laugh, he raised his cup and they sipped cautiously together. “Mmmm, thank you very much. I need to keep a stock of tea on hand to prevent my throat from getting raw.”

Nodding sagely, the elderly woman replied, “You should. All of us do or by mid-term you’ll have laryngitis. How many classes do you have this semester?”

“Five.”

Wynne’s eyes widened. “That’s quite a lot for your first solo run. Why so many?”

“I think Irving mentioned one of the other associate professors had to lessen their workload, for one reason or another, and I was the lucky sod chosen to pick up the spares.”

“I can speak to him and see if someone else can take them -”

Alistair shook his head with a warm smile. “No, it’s okay, really. They’re easy classes, freshman level pre-reqs. If I can work up lesson plans on the occupation of Ferelden for the history majors, I can handle a couple of entry level classes.”

“If you’re sure…” Wynne verified.

“I am, Wynne.”

Shaking her gray head lightly, she murmured, “The _department_ doesn’t deserve you, Alistair. You are a treasure. Your students do not know how lucky they are to have you as an advocate for them. Guaranteeing there is someone to teach an entry level class you are over-qualified for so they have a chance to learn. To prevent them from missing an opportunity or throw them off their degree track or force them to take a summer class.”

Reaching across the desk, she grasped one of his hands in her papery ones with a squeeze. “There are few teachers like you anymore. Those of you that exist are typically eaten alive by the bureaucracy of the educational system. I pray that doesn’t happen to you. We _need_ you to remind us old fogies why we chose this path whenever we start to feel burnt out. The _students_ need you to make sure they don’t get shortchanged by the machine that sees them as cogs, not people.”

Clearing his throat, he blinked against the sting of salt water welling in his eyes. “Thank you, Wynne. Truly. I didn’t pick this profession because it would make me rich or famous.”

“None of us did, Alistair,” she replied wistfully. “We chose it because we love the subject and we have a passion to share it with others. But passion can die if we do not tend the flame. Don’t let the system smother your fire, dear. It’s your greatest gift.”

Smirking, Alistair quipped, “My love of antiquated ideals and historical figures?”

Tilting her head, Wynne arched an elegant brow in mild reproof. “No. Your empathy for others. Everything you do, Alistair, you do with your heart on your sleeve. It is rare and beautiful, but easily bruised because it is exposed. Be careful with whom you entrust it to, but don’t let fear or other’s expectations cause you to hide it, either.”

“Wynne, I-I…” His phone vibrated in his bag and the woman gave his hand a last squeeze.

“I should let you return to work, professor. I’ve taken up enough of your time,” she stated with a smile.

Rising with her, he walked around the small desk and hugged her fiercely. “You are always welcome, Wynne. I always have time for you, I mean that. Thank you for the tea… and your gracious words. I feel very unworthy of them, but they mean a lot to me.”

Stepping out of the embrace, she sighed. “I like to think if I’d ever had a son, he would be like you - gentle and warm and whip smart; a man others gravitated to because of his humility. You’re more worthy than you believe.” Patting his cheek fondly, she pointed to his cup on the way out, “Drink your tea. It will make you feel better.”

Alistair chuckled lightly as he returned to his seat, dutifully drinking half the contents before he remembered to dig out his phone. He frowned at the unfamiliar number, but he unlocked the device to read the message.

_Hello. Eowyn told me to contact you regarding the room for rent in your flat. I saw the ad, and it’s quite an improvement on my current residence. The price is fair and I am very interested. If you have not rented the room_ , _please respond with a time and date that works for you so we might meet. - Cullen_

Huh, eloquent and polite - very _formal_. But it made sense considering they didn’t know one another, and he was probably trying to make a good first impression.

Alistair trusted Eowyn. She knew Cullen and if she said the two of them would get along, then they would. He had to admit to some curiosity about this “friend” he’d never heard of and he was excited to arrange a sit down. He grinned to think of the stories Cullen would have about Eowyn in law school.

_A: Cullen, I’m glad you reached out. Eowyn mentioned you needed a new place. The room is still available. I’m free tomorrow or Friday after 3pm. Let me know if either of those days work. There is a coffee shop downtown where we can meet after I’m done at UD and you’re finished in court. -Alistair_

Polishing off his tea, he checked his watch and collected his bag. Time for his last class, then a couple hours in his office for students with questions and his day would be over. He strode through the halls of the history building and wound his way to the third floor. Reaching his room, Alistair set up the presentation for the day’s lecture and sat in the office chair that was ten times more plush than his with a contented sigh.

Crossing his arms behind his head he leaned back and closed his eyes as he waited for his students to arrive. A vibration in his slacks startled him and he pulled out his phone.

_C: Tomorrow, 4pm? What is the name of the cafe?_

Alistair smiled. Yeah, Cullen didn’t seem so bad; he already sounded less stuffy than his earlier message. He snorted a little when he typed the name of the coffee shop - terribly cheesy, but damn good coffee and some of the best blintzes in town.

_A: Stay Grounded. Don’t judge me or the cafe too harshly on the name - I swear, it’s actually good! LOL_

_C: Ha! Clever and easy to remember. See you tomorrow._

_A: Look forward to it._

The bubbles on Cullen’s end flashed for some time and then stopped, only to reappear a short time later. Interesting - wonder why he keeps changing his mind?

_C: Same here._

He didn’t have any time to ponder the response further when his students started filtering in. Shoving his phone in his bag, he opened the presentation on his computer and prepared himself for the final lecture of the day.

* * *

Flopping against the back of the couch with a huff, Alistair rubbed his tired eyes. The too-bright illumination of the laptop felt as though it had permanently seared his retinas, blinding him even through his closed lids. Cracking them open slightly, he glared at the flashing cursor on the power-point slide. Taunting him, _accusing_ him of slacking because next week’s presentations weren’t complete.

With a grumble, he snapped it shut and checked his watch. Ten-thirty. Too late to text Eowyn, which was probably for the best, honestly. He didn’t want to pester her or intrude on her time with Zevran. Especially not for his paltry reasons.

Humming to block out the encroaching silence, he plugged up his laptop to charge, and grabbed his empty wineglass as he stood. After washing and drying the single item, he verified the deadbolt was engaged and switched off lights as he headed for bed. Once in his room at the end of the corridor, he pressed a button on the control panel to lower the blackout roller shades along his wall of windows, so the sun wouldn’t blind him come dawn.

His clothes for the next day hung on the closet door, complete with a black belt and matching shoes. He could be more casual, like most of the other professors, but Alistair enjoyed making an effort. He was thirty-one and not getting any younger - might as well play up what he had while he still had it.

Plus, tomorrow was important. He was meeting a friend of Eowyn’s; someone outside their shared group of acquaintances. Someone that _might_ move in with him. First impressions weren’t everything, no, but they mattered. He recalled Eowyn mentioning Cullen’s fearsome reputation in court, too. Definitely best to up the ante so he wouldn’t be seen as lacking.

Setting his phone’s alarm, he placed it on the wireless charger on the end table alongside his watch and dropped his clothes in the closet hamper. Slipping into his bathroom, he brushed his teeth and washed his face, chuckling under his breath as Evie’s incredulous voice echoed in his mind.

“What do you mean you don’t use skin care products? Are you saying you look that good with no work?” she demanded.

Alistair smirked wickedly at the memory of her indignant squawk when he quipped royalty had its perks. He resolved to never tell her he invested in a few items after their conversation to guarantee his stroke of luck in the gene pool lottery didn’t run out. All well hidden, in case she ever went snooping.

Flipping off the lights, he crawled into bed with relief. Halfway through his third week of solo teaching and already worn out. But he was proud of himself, too. His students enjoyed his lectures, engaging him with questions, hungry to learn all they could. Well, his upper level classes, anyway. Alistair chuckled quietly when he recalled the vacant stares of some of the freshmen in the university required history classes. He didn’t blame them. Forced to take a subject that didn’t spark one’s interest for a degree was always draining, but they were muddling through relatively well.

He wished he had someone to share his excitement with, like Eowyn and Zevran. While a lover would be nice, he wasn’t expecting to get that lucky. He hadn’t been on a date in two years, for Maker’s sake; too busy earning his Master’s. Besides, he wasn’t a fan of casual dating - never had been. No, just a friend who could relieve poor Evie’s burden as his sole source of companionship.

 _I hope tomorrow is as promising as Evie claims_ , he mused as he drifted into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt that Alistair deserved a middle name in this modern AU. I didn't want to use a "canon" Elvish name, so I used one that sounds Elven. It is Romanian and it means "sun," which I found very fitting for Alistair.


	2. Cullen

**August 15, 9:41 Dragon**

Stepping off the elevator onto the eleventh floor of his new law firm, Cullen’s scarred lips quirked into a faint smile. Nodding to the men and women in perfectly tailored suits tossing him appraising glances, he unconsciously smoothed his tie while his restless amber eyes scanned the cubicles intently. Rounding a corner he found another group of associate attorneys hard at work and he couldn’t restrain his grin.

“Well, well, Eowyn Tabris. Fancy meeting you here.”

Spinning her chair around with a squeal, Eowyn leapt up and hugged him as his warm laughter echoed down the corridor. Dropping his briefcase, he pulled her into a tight embrace. When they separated, her wide, elven eyes rapidly blinked away her tears, and she busied herself smoothing the wrinkles of his jacket and adjusting his tie pin.

“Maker, Cullen! You look… well, let’s just go with you _look_ ,” she said.

“Just like old times, right?” Cullen murmured, his chiseled features softening as she wordlessly fixed his attire.

The elf’s laugh was more breath than sound as she fiddled with his pocket square. “Not quite,” Eowyn whispered. “You finally learned appropriate color combinations without my help, it seems. The man I knew a couple of years ago wouldn’t have paired a navy suit with a crimson tie without me choosing it for you.”

“I learned more than I let on. It was simply more fun to goad you into doing all the work,” he teased.

“You ass,” she quipped affectionately.

He gently stilled her hands in his own with a soft smile. “What else are best friends for?”

“Stop it. I’m _trying_ to keep my mascara intact,” Eowyn griped.

“But why? It’s always more fun when it runs, especially after an unexpected dip in the Highever city fountain.”

She smacked his chest lightly. “Those were new shoes, Cullen Rutherford! Why are all my friends giant puppies intent on ruining the things I love?”

Cullen’s eyes danced with amusement, warmth welling in his chest to see his friend after a year apart. They’d been each other’s rock during law school; older than the rest of their class with enough life experience between them to equal a single eighty-year-old. She understood him and he her, and while rumors had always swirled about _how close_ they were, they’d only ever been friends.

He chuckled and leaned against her cubicle, resting his hands on top of the small desk. “So, I’m here, one giant farm puppy. Now what?”

Having composed herself, Eowyn smiled brightly. “Now, we set Denerim on fire. You always were the best and we partner well. Of course, we all cycle out together depending on our strengths and the case, but I’m sure if we team up enough we can make it permanent.”

The blonde smirked. “There is no one else I’d rather have fighting at my side.”

“Maker, I almost forgot!” she exclaimed. “Your friend Rylen is here, too. How did he beat you to town, anyway? They hired you first.”

“Ah, I was in the middle of a case with my last firm. I had to see it through, but Rylen was free, so he came straight to the city.”

Tapping his briefcase under the desk with her black pump, she jauntily crooked her elbow at him, her peridot eyes twinkling with mirth. “Well, good ser, shall we track down the rapscallion?”

Cullen threw back his head and roared with laughter. “ _That_ was the worst fairy tale mock trial of _all_ time.”

Threading his arm through hers, he allowed the petite elf to give him a tour of the firm, which encompassed the tenth and eleventh floors of the building. During their excursion to find Rylen, she introduced Cullen to one of the senior lawyers typically responsible for deciding which cases the juniors handled.

“Lace Harding, meet Cullen Rutherford. Cullen, Lace is one of the senior attorneys and an all-round friendly person. Just… don’t get on the wrong side of her in court.”

The dwarven woman’s toothy grin was infectious as she stuck out her hand for a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Cullen. We’ve heard stories about your charisma in court. You’re a natural from what I hear.” The blonde tossed his friend a pointed glance causing Eowyn to shift her gaze guiltily and Lace chuckled.

“It wasn’t _all_ Eowyn’s fault. It shouldn’t surprise you to hear your ferocious reputation is well known. Amaranthine is close enough to Denerim that we hear all the gossip.”

Smirking, the man supplied, “You mean, scope out the best graduates and scoop them up?”

Lace shrugged genially. “It’s cutthroat, not gonna lie. We need the best of the best for this damn city. Course, all the cities feel that way. Competition is fierce, but I’m not going to apologize for it.”

Laughing, he shook his head kindly. “I’m not complaining! I’d rather be here than Amaranthine and I’m sure Rylen is happier here than Starkhaven.”

“I was until I laid eyes on your ugly mug, Rutherford,” piped up a deep brogue behind them. Turning to face his friend, Cullen clasped his forearm and pulled him in for a brief hug, clapping one another on the back.

“Blessed are the Peacekeepers -”

“The Champions of the Just,” Cullen finished.

Behind him, Cullen heard the women mutter fondly, “Templars.”

Rylen chuckled. “It’s good to see ya again, brother. Maker, it’s been ages! And what have you done with your hair?” Eowyn snorted and Cullen rolled his eyes at the good-natured ribbing.

“I _fixed_ it,” the blonde insisted.

“Oh, did ya now? I liked the ringlets, now you’ve up and straightened ‘em. How am I supposed to yank on ‘em?”

Cullen glowered at him. “You _don’t_ , you ass.” Rylen barked in amusement, nearly drowning out the snickers of the women. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the blonde mumbled, “I suddenly regret the decision to ask you to move here.”

“Ach, no you don’t! You know you missed me,” he declared, clasping his shoulder. “‘Sides, if I’m not here, how else is poor Eowyn supposed to hear all your embarrassing Templar stories?”

Eowyn giggled as the blonde’s ears pinked. “It’s okay, Rylen. I’ve heard most of them.”

“Nay, lass,” Rylen chuckled, “you’ve heard the sanitized versions painting himself in the best light, more like.”

“Hmm, is that so?” Eowyn sidled closer, arching a perfect brow at Cullen who swallowed nervously. Threading her arm through Rylen’s, she waved to Lace as the dwarf entered her office with a snort and led the men back to work. “Allow me to say, Rylen, I think you and I will get along quite well.”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen grumbled as he followed the laughing pair.

* * *

**Kingsway 20, 9:41 Dragon**

Knotting his tie in the mirror Cullen was careful not to touch any surface he hadn’t cleaned. The job offer from the firm had been short notice and there hadn’t been time to locate a place of his own. He thought staying with an old high school buddy while he searched for a decent apartment wouldn’t be a big deal. But while his time in the military helped him kick his terrible habits, Carroll was still as slovenly as a teenager and it was becoming apparent Cullen couldn’t stay here much longer.

Sighing heavily, he returned to his room, mindful of the trail of clothing following in Carroll’s wake. They were a constant source of aggravation - catching the toes of his shoes in an effort to send him tumbling.

The guest room, however, was pristine. The bed smartly made with the sheets tucked, clothes in the closet organized by color, shoes lined underneath in a perfect row. He kept his collection of watches and tie pins in a velvet-lined display box secreted in a drawer. The only visible signs of the room being lived in was a bottle of cologne on the low dresser alongside a traveling toiletry bag and the chargers for his phone and laptop plugged into the wall.

Stuffing his pockets with his necessary items, Cullen picked up his case tucked behind the door and strode purposefully through the cramped apartment. Choosing to take the stairs to the parking lot, rather than the odd-smelling elevator, he was grateful it wasn’t yet winter, so he didn’t have to dig his SUV out of the snow every morning. Covered parking was a key requirement for his own place.

As he drove to work, he made a mental note to speak to Rylen and Eowyn about housing options. Downtown, preferably, or as close as possible. Carroll lived on the eastern edge of the city and traffic to and from the center of town during the week turned a twenty minute commute into an hour or more. To avoid rush hour pileups, Cullen arrived early and stayed late at the office, typing up briefs and preparing motions.

Swinging into the underground parking at the office, he chuckled softly as he turned off the engine. One perk of arriving early; dibs on the choice spots. Double checking his hair in the rear view mirror, Rylen’s voice mentally chided him for being vain and he exited with a grumble.

Nodding to the security guards in the booth, Cullen rode the elevator to the firm and got to work. He enjoyed the quiet of the office before attorneys and paralegals swarmed the halls and the receptionists’ phones started ringing. Before clients arrived for walk-throughs and depositions. It freed him to power through an entire afternoon’s worth of work in an hour or two of uninterrupted silence.

He was so engrossed he didn’t even notice when the office began to stir. A hand lightly grazed his shoulder, jolting him from his intense focus to meet Eowyn’s laughing green eyes. “Morning, sunshine. Getting another early start, I see? At least you didn’t sleep here this time,” she commented dryly, appraising his fresh suit.

Cullen blushed furiously under her scrutiny. Sighing heavily, she rested her hip against his station and crossed her legs at the ankles. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or do I have to pry it out of you?”

“No, I’ve been meaning to ask for your help, actually,” he admitted quietly. Her brows furrowed in concern and he rushed to reassure her. “It’s nothing bad, Eowyn. I need help to find a new place. I’ve been staying with an old high school friend, though we’ve grown apart and it’s not… working out. I didn’t have enough time to secure an apartment, and I wanted to ask you and Rylen for suggestions.”

Eowyn’s frown evaporated, replaced with her signature fun-loving smile. “I _might_ have a solution for you, Cullen, but let me ask you this first. Is having a roommate what you dislike about your situation or just _this_ one?”

He shrugged. “I’m not averse to sharing space, especially since I haven’t been here long enough to amass a sufficient amount in savings to feel comfortable dropping the required deposit to secure my own flat. Denerim is expensive as fuck.”

Adding the last bit prompted the response he hoped for, sending his friend into peals of trilling laughter. “Oh, ow, ow! I think I pulled a muscle!” Cullen snorted in reply, his own warm chuckles joining hers until they calmed a few moments later.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen smirked, not sorry at all. “I think I side tracked us. You said you thought you had a solution? I’m assuming you know someone?”

Her eyes twinkled merrily, further piquing his interest. “Not _just_ someone - _THE_ someone.”

Cullen’s mouth fell open as he floundered. “No... not... you mean?”

Eowyn’s grin widened. “Yes, Alistair. He was just telling me recently he needs a roommate to help him cover expenses and _so far_ he has had no luck finding a suitable candidate. _If_ I can convince him to let me help, because he’s a stubborn fool and has so far rejected my assistance, would you want me to suggest you?”

“Uh… I mean, sure, definitely, of course, that’s fine.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably and shifted his gaze, his neck pinking under his collar.

Letting him off the hook, the elf retrieved her phone. “Want to see the flat? I have the ad bookmarked since I helped him set it up.”

He arched an incredulous brow at her. “Screening applicants?” It was her turn to blush as she pulled up the site. “Does he know you’re doing that?”

“No,” she replied tersely. “The damn fool would tell me not to, but he’s my brother, Maker damn it. I will not allow any crazy person off the street to move in with him. Not with his last name,” she whispered.

The blonde’s stomach twisted at the reminder of Alistair’s lineage and the trouble it brought him over the years. While he’d never met the man, he felt as though he knew him through the stories Eowyn regaled him with during law school. It would have been impossible to hear about her youth without hearing Alistair’s, too. The pair of them were peas in a pod, bonded through a childhood of bullying and emotional neglect. There was not one without the other.

Which left him in an odd position, indeed. In awe of a man he didn’t know personally, but always hoped to meet. Gifted with a chance to live with someone whose exploits seemed larger than life.

Eowyn watched the gears whirl in his golden head and she couldn’t help smiling to herself to have her suspicions confirmed. She’d suspected for some time that Cullen harbored a crush on her adopted brother. In all honesty, there was no one she approved of more for either of them. They would be a perfect match and Alistair had graciously blessed her with an unprecedented opportunity - she’d be remiss not to use it.

“Here, that’s it,” she stated breezily, passing him her phone.

His mouth fell open for a second time as he looked at the photos. Hardwood floors throughout, entire walls of windows in the living room and the bedroom on offer, a breathtaking view of the sun setting on the harbor from the balcony. It was a luxury flat with a modern, yet comfortable aesthetic.

“ _Maker’s breath!_ How can he afford it?”

“He can’t,” the elf quipped. “I’m not sure how he put down a deposit to secure it or how he’s managed thus far on his salary. I mean, he is well compensated at the university, but even I know his flat is on the edge of affordability for him.”

Cullen glanced at the requested price for shared rent and utilities before returning her device with a frown. “Eowyn, based on those figures it’s over three grand a month including utilities. How has he lasted this long? I know professors make more than most educators, but this is his first year, isn’t it? He can’t be bringing home enough to cover all his costs.”

Her lips pursed in agitation. “I have no idea, Cullen, and I won’t lie and say it doesn’t concern me.” She glanced at the floor, her voice soft, _fragile,_ when she continued. “Ever since Alistair came home after his last year with the Wardens, he’s been… _off_. I can’t put my finger on it and it’s not all the time. Only when I mention Orlais - he gets quiet and _shifty_. He’s never been like that with me. I haven’t asked about it because I know his time with them wasn’t easy, but something happened there.”

His chest constricted as Eowyn confided in him. The pain caused by the wall between the siblings palpable, radiating off her in waves. Taking her hand, he squeezed it until she looked at him. Naked anguish swirled in her watery gaze and he gasped as it pierced him.

“He’s my brother,” she choked, barely reining in her tears, “but he won’t talk to me. He won’t let me help and we’ve _always_ helped each other. I can’t imagine what happened there; sometimes I’m not sure I want to know. What if it was illegal?” she hissed urgently. “What if that’s why he won’t tell me? I know the Warden’s have license to do pretty much anything, but he knows I’m not a fan of morally gray areas. What if… he knocked a girl up and has a secret baby he’s too ashamed to tell me about? What if it was some shady Orlesian political bullshit, and the government paid them off for their silence?”

“Eowyn -”

Squeezing his hand so hard he grimaced, she ground between clenched teeth. “These are the questions I ask myself in the middle of the night, Cullen, when I can’t sleep. I wonder why the man who’s told me everything since we were five years old, won’t talk to me now. Questioned why the man recently home from tour sat with me by my father’s deathbed and then had to be dragged away from the vhenadahl. And he _hated_ that damn tree more than I did.”

Well, shit. The anxiety tangled in his gut tightened further with the spontaneous information she supplied. No one came home from the military without secrets, but he couldn’t let on how concerned her admission made him.

“War changes people, Eowyn. We don’t all come back the way we left. Some don’t come back at all, but Alistair did,” Cullen reminded her gently. “And it’s probably not as sordid as you imagine. He may be _unable_ to talk about Orlais. Classified missions don’t stop being classified when you hang up your fatigues. I’m sure it’s just as difficult for him as it is for you. I very much doubt he’s doing it to hurt you.”

She deflated at his logic, wiping her eyes gingerly to save her makeup. “You’re right, of course, Cullen. Thank you. I don’t mean to blubber about stupid shit,” she chuckled dismissively, but he wouldn’t have it and pulled her close for a hug. “I’ll ruin your shirt,” she whined against his neck, though her arms clutched him like bindweed, desperately seeking his grounding presence.

“Fuck it,” he murmured. “I always keep a spare in my car, but I don’t have any court appearances today, so I don’t really care.” He gave her time to stop trembling, his voice low and soothing when he spoke again. “I know my friendship doesn’t compare to what you and Alistair have, but you know you can tell me anything, right? I’m always here, Eowyn, just as you’ve always been there for me. You don’t have to be strong with me like you are with the rest of the world. We’ve seen the worst of each other and neither of us ran for the hills.”

The elf laughed weakly, and he smiled in victory. “I’m so damn lucky to have such amazing men in my life. You, Alistair, Zevran. I love you all - differently, mind.” Cullen chuckled as her mischievous streak emerged. “I’m glad you’re here. I missed you and having you here makes me feel like my family is complete.”

Sitting up with a shy smile, Eowyn dabbed her face, but he shook his head fondly. “Not a single smudge, Eowyn. You look beautiful. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Yes, you would. You have, in fact. Rylen amended a few of those stories of yours.” Sinking in his chair at her teasing smirk, Cullen’s cheeks flamed, afraid he knew where this conversation was headed. “So, The Blooming Rose?”

Leaping out of his chair, the blonde nervously cleared his throat, gesturing vaguely behind him before disappearing down the nearest corridor to the sound of Eowyn’s wicked laughter.

* * *

**Harvestmere 6, 9:41 Dragon**

Cullen knew Eowyn was scheming. The smug half-smile gracing her lips all morning was a dead giveaway. They were finishing lunch at a quaint bistro close to the courthouse when she sprung it on him.

“I gave Alistair your name, and he told me to give you his number so you can contact him about the room.” Eowyn spoke so casually one would have thought she was discussing the weather.

At least she waited for him to swallow, or he’d have choked. Taking a desperate sip of water to wet his parched throat, he croaked inelegantly. “Sorry?”

Simpering, she took her time answering him, making a show of sipping her own water and patting her lips with a napkin. A coil of nervous energy settled in his gut as the reality of his situation gradually dawned on him. He’d considered the possibility of moving in with Alistair a passing fancy. But now, it could come to fruition. He didn’t know whether to laugh or bury his head in the sand.

_Maker’s breath._

Turning her too-innocent face to his, Eowyn answered. “Alistair finally agreed to let me help. I told him how I know you and that you needed a better place. He said I could give you his number.” Holding out her hand, she quirked an eyebrow. “Your phone, Cullen. I'll put him in your contacts.”

Exhaling raggedly, he fished the device out of his jacket and passed it wordlessly to her after unlocking it. She returned it without preamble and Cullen stared, gobsmacked, at the name now residing in his phone. _Alistair_ \- the single “A” in his directory. Fitting he alone held the honor.

His cheeks grew hot as soon as the idle thought crossed his mind. It was utterly ridiculous to think such things, Cullen realized. He didn’t know the man, except through Eowyn’s exaggerated stories, but everything he’d ever heard made him want to know more. Even with no personal knowledge of him, Alistair was _compelling._

An orphan purposefully shunned by the royal family, an out-of-wedlock child they would never claim. Left to grow, but not thrive, in a ramshackle orphanage close to the alienage school where he finally found someone who loved him unconditionally. An _elven_ girl he protected fiercely, because despite his abuses and trauma, he was gentle and kind. He then joined the Wardens, where he finally grew into himself. Rapidly moving through the ranks, he returned home with more medals and honors than he could shake a stick at, yet never called attention to. Preferring to remain humble, he chose a different type of service: _teaching_. Alistair could have been _anything_ with his last name and exemplary military record, but he eschewed notoriety in favor of building up future generations with knowledge.

How was it possible after the life he’d led that Alistair retained such a giving soul? It took a strength of will and virtuous heart Cullen didn’t believe many possessed in the modern era. Alistair was _mythical_ \- a legendary tragic hero. The one who suffered in order to triumph over evil and inspire armies as he ran headlong into battle without thought for himself.

He glanced up as Eowyn finished reapplying her lipstick. “Ready? We have to get back before court is in session.” Cullen nodded mutely, schooling his features into a neutral expression, as she grabbed her handbag doubling as her briefcase. They didn’t speak on the return walk; his mind too preoccupied with how he should proceed.

Honestly, it was a no-brainer. His situation with Carroll was untenable, and he didn’t have another solution at the moment. Eowyn bit her cheek to restrain her smirk when Cullen checked his watch for the fourth time in under a minute as they crossed the last street.

Once in the civil courthouse, he shooed Eowyn into the courtroom and leaned heavily against the cold tile. Maker, what should he say? How should he introduce himself? Fuck, the only time he ever second guessed himself was when it mattered most. A rather annoying personality flaw, frankly.

 _Alistair, you don’t know me -_ ugh, no. He deleted it and tried again. _Eowyn has told_ \- nope, not going to lead with that. Sighing, he typed furiously before he could overthink his words.

_Hello. Eowyn told me to contact you regarding the room for rent in your flat. I saw the ad, and it’s quite an improvement on my current residence. The price is fair and I am very interested. If you have not rented the room_ , _please respond with a time and date that works for you so we might meet. - Cullen_

He hit send before he deleted it. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he groaned in irritation. Why did he have to come across so stiff and formal? Alistair wouldn’t respond to such an uptight greeting. Well, too late to change it now and he was due in court. Shoving his phone in his pocket, he plopped quietly next to Eowyn as they waited for the judge to reach them on her afternoon docket.

A trivial matter, merely filing a motion for a client, but one never knew how long it would take the presiding judge to reach them on the daily docket. Settling in to wait, Eowyn snagged her phone, reading and replying to a few emails, before shooting Cullen a text.

The blonde startled from his brooding reverie as his phone vibrated against his chest and she struggled to maintain her poker face while he read.

_E: Soooo, did you send him a message about the room?_

Cullen huffed sharply through his nose and she winced internally. That didn’t bode well. He was in the middle of answering when a message banner appeared and his heart skipped a beat to see the name. _Alistair._

Switching from Eowyn’s chat to Alistair’s he avidly read the response.

_A: Cullen, I’m glad you reached out. Eowyn mentioned you needed a new place. The room is still available. I’m free tomorrow or Friday after 3pm. Let me know if either of those days work. There is a coffee shop downtown where we can meet after I’m done at UD and you’re finished in court. -Alistair_

Leaning close to Eowyn, he whispered, “We don’t have any court appearances tomorrow afternoon, do we?”

Holding up her finger, she pulled up her calendar and shook her head. “Was that him?” she murmured. He nodded and typed a quick message to her to avoid the judge’s wrath for speaking in the gallery.

_C: Wants to meet tomorrow or the next day. Afternoon at a coffee shop._

Eowyn contained her giggle. She knew the one he favored, but she wouldn’t steal his thunder.

_E: Go tomorrow. We can finish drawing up briefs and motions and be done by 2:30. You stay late all the time, Lace won’t mind if you skip out early for a “business meeting.”_

_C: You are brilliant._ Cullen shot her a grateful smile.

Switching chats, he typed a quick reply to Alistair and willed his heart to slow.

_C: Tomorrow, 4pm? What is the name of the cafe?_

Almost immediately bubbles flashed along his screen indicating he was tapping out a response. A surreal experience, to be sure, as the man he idolized carried on a real-time conversation with him.

_A: Stay Grounded. Don’t judge me or the cafe too harshly on the name - I swear, it’s actually good! LOL_

Cullen snorted in amusement, but quickly turned it into a polite cough with a faint blush, ducking his head as he shot off another text.

_C: Ha! Clever and easy to remember. See you tomorrow._

_A: Look forward to it._

Eowyn watched from her periphery, excitement coursing through her. Andraste, she hoped this worked out on a variety of levels. Most importantly, Cullen _needed_ a better place; he couldn’t keep up his current hours without working himself into the ground. But another part of her was equally invested in the possibility of hooking them up. It had been years for either of them since they seriously, or even casually, dated anyone. And she knew they were lonely - though they would never admit it, even to themselves.

After a few stilted attempts to sound nonchalant, Cullen decided a simple “same here” was enough and sent it into the ether before he changed his mind again.

Judge Hawthorne’s gavel rang out in the court and he returned his phone to his suit jacket while Eowyn pulled a file from her bag.

“Ms. Tabris, Mr. Rutherford, you have a motion?”

He held the gate for Eowyn as they approached the judge, replying in tandem, “We do, Your Honor.”

“Very well. What is your motion?”

“A motion of discovery, Your Honor,” Eowyn chimed, passing it to the judge for review. Perching her glasses on her nose, the judge quickly scanned the document before signing it and stamping it with her seal.

“Everything appears in order. Let the record show a motion for discovery is accepted by the court. Any other business today, Counselors?”

“No, Your Honor,” Cullen answered.

Passing the signed document to Eowyn she slammed her gavel. “Next plea.”

Once again, Cullen held the gate for his colleague, glaring at one attorney who tried to step through before she exited. The man skittered back at his vehemence with a rushed apology, allowing both of them to leave before approaching the bench. Swinging by the clerk’s office, they had the motion officially filed with the court to be sent in triplicate to the defendant, the defendant’s legal counsel, and their firm for the official case record.

Slipping the file in her bag, they wove through the halls to the parking lot, sinking with relief into Cullen’s leather seats. “Maker,” he groaned, “they should warn you in law school that nine-tenths of your day is waiting for the damn judge to sign a single sheet of paper.”

Pulling her shades from her cavernous bag, Eowyn popped them on and kicked off her heels with a sigh. “If they did, do you honestly think most of us would stick around to see it through?”

Laughing warmly, he settled his own sunglasses on his face and pulled out of the lot. “No, absolutely not. We all dream of being sharks in court, hunting for blood in the water, not whiling away our afternoons in boredom.”

Shooting him a sly smile, she retorted, “Instead, some become lions, silently stalking their prey and taking them down when they least expect it. At least, the lionesses do - the males just laze around and roar occasionally to remind everyone they’re still there.”

Cullen pressed a hand to his chest and gasped. “My lady, you wound me! I do more than laze around. Scratch my head enough and I’ll purr, too,” he quipped with a slow smirk that sent her into a fit of giggles.

“In the lion’s defense,” he continued genially, “males _do_ hunt and protect the pride from other predators, including other lions who try to encroach on their territory. Never let it be said a lion is not fiercely protective of his family.”

Resting her hand lightly on his forearm, she stated, “I would never claim otherwise where you’re concerned. From the ranks of the Templars to championing justice in a court of law. You protect your clients and look out for their best interests, just as you do mine or Zev’s or your siblings. I’ve seen you in court, Cullen, you are a _master_ of the silent kill.”

Leaning back in her seat, she stared at him over the rim of her shades, a grin blooming on her face. “Though I have to ask, do you still have that coat with the decadent mane?”

Tossing her a glare she could feel through his tinted lenses, he replied crisply, “No. Despite how warm it was, I couldn’t wear it without hearing you tell me I looked like a mangy beast. And I didn’t wish to give the metaphor in Amaranthine more weight.” Her exuberant laughter rang through the vehicle and he couldn’t help chuckling in response as they pulled into the parking garage.

* * *

Rubbing his neck with a groan, he leaned in his chair and closed his eyes to block out the fluorescent light beaming like a spotlight over the collection of abandoned cubicles. The rest of the floor was dark. He was the only one in the office - again. Lace departed hours ago and she made him swear he would leave shortly, too, but he lost himself in his work.

No, Cullen admitted irritably, he was avoiding heading to Carroll’s. He hated to think of the place he currently lived as “home.” It could barely be considered habitable. Yet, he couldn’t stay here and risk falling asleep. His face flamed when he recalled Eowyn shaking him awake three weeks ago. Thank the Maker, she usually arrived early and had been the one to find him. She covered for him with the seniors as he rushed to the apartment to shower and change, their story about his car problems ironed out by the time he returned.

Rising abruptly, he grabbed his case and fished out his keys, turning off the remaining lights as he exited the building. Passing the guard booth in the lot, he answered their good-natured ribbing with a weak shrug and a tired chuckle. As he traveled the deserted highways toward his destination, his mind wandered.

Tomorrow was important. He wasn’t worried about whether or not he would like Alistair - that had long ago been decided. No, he worried what Eowyn’s brother would think of _him._ The uncertainty made his stomach tie in knots. His palms sweated against the wheel and his heart sped up, forcing him to consciously breathe to steady it. He liked to believe he was self-assured and confident, but this was different.

It was difficult to explain his trepidation, especially when he knew Alistair, in a sense. Though… that was part of the problem. He knew a lot about the man, thanks to Eowyn, and now that he was going to meet him - possibly _live_ with him - he worried how Alistair would handle the news of his advance knowledge.

Would he find it amusing or an invasion of his privacy? Would he be angry at him or resent Eowyn for the part she played? His gut clenched when he imagined causing an issue between his best friend and her adopted brother.

Maker, he couldn’t afford to fuck this up. Particularly when he desperately needed the new residence.

Turning off the car engine, he forced his body to relax. Alistair was an easy-going man with an excellent sense of humor, which was apparent even through his texts. He shouldn’t worry. Eowyn hadn’t steered him wrong in all the time he’d known her and she wouldn’t start now.

 _Everything will be fine_ , he insisted as he climbed out of his vehicle and headed inside the apartment building, hoping he wouldn’t be here much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those unfamiliar with law school, fairy tales are typically the basis for "mock trials" the students hold to get used to a courtroom setting. The professor is usually the presiding judge, some students act as prosecution and defense, or witnesses. Sometimes outside witnesses are brought in to act as "experts." But honestly, the best part is putting the seven dwarves on trial for smuggling or the bad wolf for destruction of the three little pigs' property.
> 
> And yes, I know "rapscallion" is a Shakespearean term, but it's a favorite word of mine and it fit with the fairy tale idea. 😎


	3. Meet Your Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.” - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

* * *

**Harvestmere 7, 9:41 Dragon**

The morning flew by in a rush of pretrial motions at the courthouse and preparing a client for next week’s deposition with opposing counsel when he returned to the office. By the time Cullen had a moment to breathe, it was past noon. Praise Andraste, his schedule was free and clear for the rest of the day.

As Rylen directed the three of them into an empty conference room, the blonde ran a hand along his chest, his mind drifting anxiously to his afternoon plans. Eowyn bit her cheek to curb her jubilant giggles at the unconscious gesture.

Cullen pulled out all the stops today on his attire, taking her pointers from school to heart. Pairing a charcoal gray suit with a light blue shirt and a navy blue tie, his hair perfectly styled into soft waves. The look exuded confidence without being stern - powerful, yet suave.

Alistair would eat it up, much like the rest of the office had all morning, she noted wryly.

Neither Cullen nor Alistair had a clue how good-looking they were. While modesty could be an endearing trait, theirs was actually a general obtuseness regarding any of their finer qualities. But that could be changed - with the right person.

“I asked Cullen earlier if he wouldn’t mind if I hitched a ride to court with ya today,” Rylen said, interrupting her musings. “I’ve a complaint to file, but he says he’s unable to seein’ as it’s an afternoon docket.”

Cullen rolled his eyes, but Eowyn interjected before he could speak. “I can take you, Rylen. Cullen has to leave early this afternoon for a business matter, but I’d be happy to give you a ride.”

“Excellent! Thank you, Eowyn. You should have said you were busy, mate,” the former Templar teased with a smile.

“I did, if I recall, and you claimed I couldn’t possibly have a life outside of work,” huffed the blonde.

Rylen’s grin widened. “Do you blame me? You’re always the first one here and the last one to leave. When are you supposed to have time for a life?”

Grumbling under his breath, Cullen waved dismissively and headed to the break room for a cup of tea. He hated to admit Rylen was right. Honestly, if he didn’t have a reason to leave early today, he would almost certainly remain at the office until midnight.

Leaning against the counter he pinched the bridge of his nose with a sharp sigh. The work-life balance had always been a struggle for him. First in the Templars, then at university and law school, and now his career. There had been short lived flings scattered throughout the last decade, but none were ever serious, which kept him from feeling too guilty whenever he turned down his lover’s offers of a night on the town. After enough refusals, they fizzled out and allowed him to focus on his studies.

But now he was thirty and fast approaching his next birthday. Time was slipping through his fingers.

Sipping his drink, his mind once again wandered to the meeting later in the day, sending a jolt of nervous excitement up his spine, followed immediately with a scoff into his tea. He was acting like a star-struck teenager. He didn’t even know what the man looked like, for Andraste’s sake!

There were no pictures of him - the image in his mind a construct of stories pieced together. Cullen once asked Eowyn why she didn’t have any pictures of their youth and she’d smiled sadly. “Where would an orphan and an elven brat attending the under-funded alienage school get money for a camera?”

He winced at the memory. Raising the foam cup for another sip, he halted halfway through the motion, swaying slightly as the world rocked on its axis. Regaining his equilibrium, he tossed his drink in the trash and strode purposefully to the collection of cubicles.

Leaning casually over his diminutive friend, he murmured in her ear. “Eowyn, my dear, I just realized something.”

Turning slowly, she cocked her head at him, an easy smile on her angled features. “What did you just realize?”

Fixing her with a hard stare, he whispered, “I don’t know who I’m looking for at the cafe. You may not have photos from when you were young, but you must have them now.” He glanced pointedly at her phone.

Her smile grew into a devilish grin. “But where is the fun in that? Do you really want to ruin the surprise? You only have-” she checked her watch “-three hours to go. I think you can manage it after five years of waiting, don’t you?”

“You are evil, Eowyn. You’re doing this on purpose, forcing me to walk in blind to meet him.”

Rolling her eyes, she flippantly replied, “It’s just Alistair - it’s not a big deal. He may have been a Warden once, but he doesn’t breathe fire or he’d have roasted me two decades ago. Honestly, you’ll get along fine and be moved out of your dreadful place in no time.”

Glancing at her watch again, she shooed him back from her workspace, rising elegantly and gathering her things. “I have to take Rylen to court, but let me know how things go, okay?”

Sighing in defeat, Cullen agreed. “Of course. I know I’m being an idiot, I just want to make a good impression. Alistair is your brother and I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with my best friend’s family,” he stated, forcing a light chuckle.

Patting his cheek fondly, she smiled. “Trust me, he’ll like you. I wouldn’t have suggested it to either of you if I didn’t think it would be a suitable fit.”

She stepped around him, but he snagged her wrist with a timid smile. “Forgive me if I haven’t already said it, but thank you for your help. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Eowyn.”

“I’m always happy to help.” Stretching on tiptoe, she tilted her face, and he bent slightly to allow her lips to graze his cheek. “Everything will be fine. I’ll talk to you later,” she whispered. Cullen nodded, hands shoved in his pockets as she joined Rylen waiting for her across the room.

Muttering through the corner of his mouth as they traversed the hall, Rylen asked. “Is it just me or does our boy seem to have a bee in his bonnet today?”

Eowyn snorted, her expression coy as they entered the elevator. “Indeed, he does. He’s meeting someone today.”

Rylen arched an eyebrow over his twinkling blue eyes. “Meeting or _meeting?”_

“Well, that is the million dollar question, isn’t it? Let’s just say, I am _hopeful_ about it.”

“I take it you know this person? Did you also have a hand in setting it up?”

“Perhaps,” she chirped as they entered the parking garage. Locating her red sedan they clambered inside and buckled up. Before leaving the lot she passed him her phone. “My childhood friend, Alistair. He’s more like a brother, really. Anyway, he needs a roommate, Cullen needs a new place, and I convinced Alistair to meet him.”

He studied the picture of the man in question approvingly. “Have you shown him?” he asked as he returned her phone. Eowyn shook her head with a toothy grin. His steady chuckle erupted into vibrant laughter as they exited the garage. “Oh, lass, you are devious! Cullen will not know what hit him.”

“That is the plan, Rylen,” she replied brightly.

* * *

_A: I’m about to start my last lecture. I wanted to verify we’re still on for this afternoon._

_C: Yes, I will be there._

_A: Great! See you then._

_C: I look forward to it._

Leaning back in the same office chair from two days prior, Alistair lightly tapped the screen of his device, nibbling his lip in indecision before firing off another quick text.

_A: Are you seriously not going to give me a heads up about him? A picture? A description?_

_E: Trust me, you’ll know him when you see him._

He rolled his eyes with a slight huff. “Very helpful, Evie,” he muttered.

_A: I tried finding him online. He doesn’t have any social media accounts._

_E: Of course not! He’s an attorney - that’s dangerous in our line of work. You have no room to talk; you don’t have a social media presence either._

_A: …True._

_A: You won’t give me anything at all?_

_E: No._

He groaned and wondered if all sisters were this irritating.

_A: You are wicked. Why do I love you?_

_E: Because I’m darling! 😘  
_

_A: Pffffttt! You stopped being “darling” when we were twelve._

_E: Don’t you have a class to teach, brother mine?_

_A: Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you later and let you know how things went._

_E: I promise, Ali, he’s a great guy._

_A: I believe you, Evie._

Well, talking to her did little to ease the anxiety coiled in his gut, but he’d faced scarier things in his life than blindly meeting one of Eowyn’s ball-busting coworkers. As his students began filling their seats, he sighed and put his phone away, resolved not to stress about what would be a perfectly boring meet and greet.

* * *

Standing outside the coffee shop where they agreed to meet, a rush of nerves swept over Cullen. Shaking his head lightly in mild reproof, he reminded himself for the hundredth time, this was purely a professional interview for housing. Locking his SUV, he straightened to his full height and walked into the small cafe.

A soft smile graced his lips as the scent of fresh coffee and flaky pastries washed over him. Glancing around anxiously, he noticed another man enter through a second door, sliding his shades into his short hair and tossing an affable smile to the girl behind the counter.

The girl blushed, an excited giggle bubbling past her lips. “Your usual, Alistair?”

Laughing richly, he stepped into the light streaming in the windows, wreathing his hair in vibrant red and Cullen’s heart stopped. The one thing Eowyn neglected to tell Cullen in all the years he’d known her was how devastatingly handsome Alistair was. Taller than him with broad shoulders, a square jawline and perfect nose, he looked like he belonged on a magazine cover in his crisp khakis and black button down.

Alistair was _nothing_ like he’d imagined. He was _better_ and Cullen struggled to breathe.

“Normally, I’d say yes, Ava, but I’m meeting someone so I’ll just grab a table.” Cullen shivered slightly when his dulcet voice rang through the shop, momentarily captivating everyone in the cafe.

The auburn-haired man missed the barista’s dejected expression as he claimed an empty table in a corner near the door he entered, and Cullen empathized with her. Though he was the one meeting him, it wasn’t for the reason she assumed and that was a disappointment he shared.

 _Well, Rutherford, you haven’t waited five years to meet him to stand here._ Gathering his courage, he walked toward the chosen table.

Movement near the other door caught Alistair’s attention and his mouth watered as a gorgeous blonde man approached him. Piercing amber eyes and a scarred lip added a rakish air to his tall, well-toned physique, topped with a glorious head of artfully styled waves. He wondered idly if they were as soft as they looked and if he could ever find out.

He strode with purpose in his charcoal gray suit and navy tie exuding confidence and strength. Palpable enough that those in his vicinity gazed after him with longing as he passed. Eowyn hadn’t lied - he knew him immediately. None of her lawyer colleagues were shrinking violets, but there was a magnetism about Cullen. It pulled Alistair unconsciously to his feet as he closed in, his stomach somersaulting when the man reached him.

“You must be Cullen,” Alistair smiled, hoping it hid his sudden onset of nerves. Cullen chuckled, pulling the bisected lip into a half-smile, and Alistair reminded himself to breathe.

“I am and you must be Alistair. I’ve heard much.”

 _Sweet Maker_. Alistair would kill Eowyn for not warning him about the man’s voice.

His mouth came to his rescue, replying casually. “Only good things, I hope,” he joked as he extended his hand. Cullen’s smile widened fractionally as he nodded and grasped it in a firm shake.

Electricity jolted through him the moment they touched and he reined in the startled gasp threatening to spill past his lips. His heart raced so hard he feared it might explode and his legs actually trembled with the effort to remain standing.

 _Maker’s breath!_ _What was that?_

Releasing his hand, Alistair waved to the table, gratefully sinking into his chair and hoping the attorney noticed nothing unusual about his reaction. Cullen, meanwhile, slid unsteadily into his seat and adopted his best poker face, praying his surprise wasn’t evident.

On the way to the cafe, Cullen decided to teasingly mention the stories Eowyn shared as an icebreaker. Yet, after that earthquaking touch, the ability to speak required significantly more effort than usual.

Drumming his fingers on the table, Alistair struggled to get his thoughts on track. Settling on a simple question, he cleared his throat. “So, how long have you known Eowyn?”

“Five years. We met in law school,” Cullen replied, immensely grateful his voice didn’t waver.

Alistair chuckled lightly as he relaxed, and warmth flowed through Cullen in response. “What do you think of Highever?”

Cullen’s lip twitched as he restrained a smirk, and Alistair’s pulse quickened. “It’s… _quaint_ for a city of it’s size.”

“Provincial, you mean?” he affirmed, prompting the men to share a secretive smile. “She said you moved to Amaranthine after you passed the bar?”

“I did, but it didn’t pan out.”

“Should I be sorry about that?” Alistair quipped, a small thrill coursing through him as the man chuffed a quiet laugh with a shake of his head.

“No, I’m certainly not,” Cullen answered, his gaze darting aside. Maker, he needed to not speak so freely or he’d dig himself into a hole he couldn’t climb out of.

Alistair appraised him with interest as they ping-ponged their way through small talk. Quiet and reserved though he was (a definite shift from his initial persona) there was _something_ about Cullen that drew him in. Intrigued by the blonde from the moment he approached, he desperately wanted to know everything about him after that dizzying handshake.

“Ah, Eowyn mentioned you are a professor? History, was it?” Cullen asked, his skin prickling under Alistair’s scrutiny.

The professor flushed to be caught staring, his own gaze shifting away when he rushed to answer the question. “Yes, medieval history at the University of Denerim.” He chuckled at Cullen’s quirked eyebrow. “I know, terribly boring to anyone who isn’t passionate about it, but I’ve always held unusual interests,” he jibed with a shrug.

Cullen kept his expression neutral, but his chest constricted to hear Alistair’s low estimation of himself. So far everything Eowyn shared with him about her brother was true. He was warm, genuine, and intelligent with a dry wit. And unfortunately, self-deprecating. How could he not see his own worth?

But he couldn’t say any of that without sounding insane or veering into stalker-esque territory. The silence stretched out between them as he waffled over how to respond. Yet, despite his lackluster conversation, the contemplative curve of Alistair’s lips never faltered and his eyes retained their sparkle.

“I, uh, admit I’m not as well versed in your particular field, but I do enjoy history.”

Alistair smirked. “Military history?” Cullen laughed softly and nodded in acknowledgement. “It’s a pretty popular field of study. I prefer discussing people and society over boring battles and egotistical generals, but that’s just me.”

His comment coaxed a more robust chuckle out of the lawyer and he realized he wanted to hear it again. There was one way to guarantee it, too. Leaning comfortably in his chair, Alistair nodded definitively.

“Well, chalk up another win for Evie. I like you, Cullen. I know first meetings are awkward as hell, but I’m willing to go out on a limb here. Would you be available sometime next week to view the flat before you commit?”

The attorney’s amber eyes widened marginally in surprise before he schooled his features. “Yes. What day would work best for you?”

“Tuesday?”

Grabbing his phone, Cullen checked his calendar and frowned. “Damn, I’m in court all day. Thursday? My schedule is open from two o’clock onward.”

“That works for me. Tuesday and Thursday are my ‘light’ days. This semester, anyway,” he joked. “I’ll be free after my last lecture at three. I should be home by three thirty and can meet you there.”

Their eyes met for a second before Cullen cleared his throat and typed furiously. “Sounds good. I’ve blocked it off.” He chanced a glance at Alistair and his stomach instantly flipped at the intense scrutiny of his golden-brown gaze. _Andraste preserve me, he is striking._

Alistair jerked his head toward the counter. “Did you want to get a coffee or anything? I don’t want to prevent you from grabbing a bite, if you’re inclined.”

Cullen smiled politely as he pocketed his phone. “No, thank you, but please, don’t stop on my account.”

The professor snorted softly. “You know, we could play the solicitous game all day. I think it stems from our friendship with a certain elven woman. We’re used to her bossing us around and don’t know how to make decisions for ourselves anymore.”

Rich laughter rumbled out of Cullen, forcing Alistair to swallow hard and wet his suddenly parched vocal cords. After a pause he straightened, using the movement to surreptitiously run his hands along his thighs and decide on an escape plan.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I’ve got essays to grade. Did you have any questions for me?”

“Nothing comes to mind,” Cullen responded as they rose in unison. “The pleasure was all mine, Alistair. Thank you for agreeing to meet me, even if it was on Eowyn’s suggestion.”

Alistair grinned broadly, unearthing his dimples for the first time. Cullen mentally cursed Eowyn with every expletive he could think of for not adequately preparing him for her brother’s effortless charm.

“Like I said, she’s a formidable adversary, as I’m sure you’re well aware. It’s best to agree and not anger her. Have you seen her roundhouse?”

Cullen chuckled as he inclined his head. “I was on the receiving end of one, actually. Though, it was entirely accidental.”

The professor’s grin turned sly. “How do you get kicked in the face accidentally?”

He rolled his broad shoulders in a lazy shrug. “I was holding the bag steady at the gym and my face was too close. She came in at an angle and clocked me upside the head.” Cullen’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “It was an excellent lesson, but Eowyn felt so guilty she baked me cookies for a month. All things considered, it turned out alright.”

“Ah, guilty baking. A _sweet_ trait, isn’t it?” Cullen attempted to rein in his amusement with the terrible pun, but after a moment their joint laughter rang pleasantly through the shop.

“Well,” Cullen said once they calmed, “I won’t keep you. See you in a week, Alistair.”

Without thinking, the attorney extended his hand, immediately spiking his heart rate, aware he couldn’t withdraw it now. Alistair didn’t hesitate, clasping their hands confidently together. This time all Cullen felt was his self-assured grip and the warmth radiating from his palm. His heart leapt again, but there was no current of electricity accompanying the gesture.

“See you in a week, Cullen,” Alistair replied.

Gracing him with a smile, Cullen turned and focused on keeping his steps measured and sedate as he walked through the cafe to the opposite exit. Alistair didn’t stay to watch him leave, instead he dashed out the front door and collapsed in his silver coupe.

_A: EVIE - I’M GOING TO KILL YOU_

_C: EOWYN - I’M GOING TO MURDER YOU_

Eowyn read the simultaneous messages in her car after dropping Rylen off at the office and crowed with laughter. Snickering, she fired off her responses.

_E: Ali! What’s wrong? I thought you would like him._

_E: Cullen - what happened? Did it not work out?_

The bubbles from both men flashed on her screen as she giggled. She would take their temporary frustration, if this worked out.

_A: Don’t play coy with me, little sister. You did NOT warn me that your friend is not only GORGEOUS, but has a voice to make Andraste jealous! I bet he sings better, too._

_E: Oh, shit, I forgot about your voice kink._

No, she hadn’t.

_A: Uh huh, sure._

Of course, Alistair knew her too well to buy the lie, but she was unruffled by his chastisement. Cullen’s text flashed across her screen and she switched chats.

_C: You should have told me how ATTRACTIVE Alistair is! I was not prepared._

_E: Is he really? I wasn’t aware. At any rate, I didn’t think it necessitated a warning._

_C: I know he’s your brother, but you’re not blind, Eowyn! Maker’s breath! He’s got dimples, for Andraste’s sake! DIMPLES!_

Things must have gone _very_ well indeed for Alistair’s dimples to make an appearance. Opening up a new chat, Eowyn typed a quick message.

_E: If I bring home wine, will you make your famous eggplant parmigiana?_

_Z: Of course, amore mio, anything for you. Are we celebrating something?_

Eowyn chortled.

_E: Bello, I have some wonderful news. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home._

_Z: Ooooh! Sounds juicy. I anxiously await your arrival, cara._

Pulling out of the parking lot, she laughed every time her phone vibrated like an angry hornets' nest in her bag. She would call Ali when she got home and get his side of the story. _So far, so good._

* * *

Alistair growled into the phone when it vibrated in his palm as he paced his flat. “ _Evie_ -”

“So, how’d it go?” she interrupted, and he huffed in annoyance.

A loaded question, if there ever was one. He couldn’t tell her about the handshake - he was still trying to figure it out, and he didn’t want to sound crazy. It was most easily explained as the pathetic touch-starved man he was experiencing a jolt when someone unfamiliar touched him. Which was more depressing than the fanciful answer, to be sure, but it was logical, realistic, _safe_.

“You’re right,” he finally answered. “Cullen’s an agreeable guy. A bit shy, which surprised me, since he came in so confident in that power suit.”

Eowyn removed the phone from her face, squeaking quietly and hopping around her living room. Zevran waggled his eyebrows from the kitchen in shared enthusiasm as she combusted.

Calming herself, she replied evenly, “Huh, he’s usually self-assured. I’m sure it was just a touch of awkward jitters. He was trying to make a good impression, so you’d take him as a roommate.”

Alistair nodded with a hum. “Yes, I thought the same. He warmed up at the end, though and I liked him better than the other applicants. We’ve arranged for him to come by next week to view the flat in person before he commits.”

“That’s good. I told you you’d get along.”

“Yeah, yeah, gloat all you like,” he groused, sprawling on his couch. “Still some advance warning would have been appreciated. I was not expecting that _voice_. Maker, it’s like swimming in Antivan brandy.”

The elf flailed on her end of the line in excitement. “I never noticed,” she replied as coolly as possible.

Scoffing, Alistair retorted, “Do you have a pulse? How can you stay upright working with him all day?”

“Easily,” she trilled. “He’s just Cullen - a giant puppy who gives great hugs.” Alistair closed his eyes and shivered slightly as he imagined being on the receiving end of an embrace from the blonde man.

“Now that I’ve met him, are you willing to tell me more about him?”

“Didn’t you spend time with him today? I thought you would have talked about his background already,” she teased.

Alistair’s skin burned to his toes when he recalled the handshake that threw off his planned interview. Clearing his throat, he said, “I might have been… distracted.”

Her mouth fell open with an audible click and he grimaced, aware he unwittingly gave her ammunition. “Well, Ali, I’m surprised at you. Letting a handsome man throw you off your game so easily.”

Groaning, he covered his face with his forearm. “Game? What game? I’ve never had it and I doubt I would know what to do with it. That seems like something Zevran and Cullen would know about more than me.”

Eowyn shook her phone with both hands and screamed silently in frustration while Zevran snorted in the background. Breathing deeply, she returned the device to her ear and rubbed her temple with her free hand.

“There’s not much to tell,” Eowyn said. “He’s from Redcliffe Arling and attended university there. Cullen and I were late arrivals to law school, which made us a little self-conscious. I was struggling with the separation from you and Zev while we all focused on our careers. We were homesick and the two oldest people in our class, which quickly bonded us. We kept each other sane during mock trials and studying for exams and spent too many nights sharing a six-pack and pizza.” Eowyn chuckled fondly at the memories. “He’s on the list of people I trust with my life - right under you and Zevran.”

Warmth coursed through Alistair with the information. Cullen sounded like a marvelous man. Evie wasn’t one to put faith in anyone; too used to guarding her heart. If she felt comfortable revealing it to him, Alistair was confident he would make an excellent roommate and maybe a friend, as well.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “he sounds decent. I…”

His eyes watered with unexpected affection. Eowyn always looked out for him. Guaranteed to be there when he needed her and find a solution to his problems without breaking a sweat. He would have found a roommate without her help _eventually_ , but it wouldn’t have been such a perfect fit. And not only did her idea benefit him but also another close friend of hers.

“Ali?” Her tone instantly sharpened into concern when his voice trailed off.

Swallowing hard against the press of emotion caught in his throat, he rasped, “I’m okay, Evie. Thank you for your help with this. I’m sorry I didn’t let you help sooner. It means a lot you wanted to.” He smiled unsteadily even though she couldn’t see it. “That’s all,” he whispered.

“Oh, Alistair,” she sighed, a warble in her bright tone. “You’re my brother and I would do _anything_ for you. I’m pleased this will work out for both your sakes.”

Silence descended, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. With eyes closed, Alistair listened to her breathe. He could almost feel her petite frame leaning against him, like the first time she plopped beside him on the playground when they were five, wiping tears from his face. When they were ten, their fingers tangled together, cracked knuckles on display. When they were sixteen, dabbing the blood from his split lip, blaming herself for being the cause while he dried her eyes and promised he’d always be her shield. A lifetime of bonding moments between an unwanted child and a lonely elf, forging them into something unbreakable.

Over the years, many people asked if there had ever been a time when things between them could have turned romantic and every time they affirmed not all love was sexual. Romance had a place, but not with them. Not for the two kids who desperately longed for a genuine family. They found the connection they sought as surrogate siblings when they were kids and it was all they needed.

“I should let you go, Evie,” he murmured. “I know Zev is home. Tell him I said hello.”

“I will, Ali,” she replied softly. “Come over for dinner tomorrow? I’ll make your favorite cheesecake for dessert.”

He barked a laugh, his chest expanding with joy at the sound of her giggle. “I’ll be there, sis. Need me to bring anything?”

“No, brother, just yourself.”

“Alright,” he answered, the smile obvious in his voice. “I love you. See you tomorrow.”

“See you then. Love you.”

* * *

After dinner, Eowyn and Zevran snuggled on the couch to watch a movie. Finding one they agreed on was half the fun. It usually turned into a playful scuffle, which led to Zevran kissing her insensate, forcing her to agree on whatever purposefully ridiculous movie he chose. Rolling her eyes with his antics, she burrowed in his lap and shot off a text to Cullen during the opening credits.

_E: Giving me the silent treatment, now? I see how it is 😉_

A third of the way through the film, her phone was ominously mute. Checking the time of her last text, Eowyn frowned. It wasn’t like him to go so long without responding.

_E: I hope you’re ok._

A few nerve wracking minutes later it finally buzzed, and she quickly opened the message.

_C: Eowyn, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you worry. I went for a run and left my phone charging at the apartment._

“Thank the Maker,” she sighed heavily in relief.

Zevran chuckled softly behind her. “Amore mio, always worrying.”

Her fingers flew across her screen while she grumbled, “If I don’t worry about them, who else will?”

Pressing a gentle kiss to her crown, he murmured, “Do not take offense, cara. It is part of why I love you. You have a large, caring heart. And I agree with you - those two need all the help they can get.” She smacked his arm lightly while he laughed.

_E: I’m just glad you’re alright. Did you burn off the rest of your nervous energy?_

_C: I did. My mind is much clearer._

_E: Does that mean you still plan to rent the room?_

_C: Yes, I can’t stay with Carroll any longer than necessary._

_E: Alistair mentioned you are going over to see the flat, but he didn’t say when._

_C: Next Thursday and you’re coming with me, Eowyn._

_E: …I am?_

_C: No arguments._

_E: I think you can handle a tour without me, Cullen._

_C: NO ARGUMENTS._

_E: Fine, fine! I’ll go with you, geez! What time are we meeting him?_

_C: He said he should be home by 3:30, so some time after that. I plan to iron out the time the day of, in case things change._

Eowyn smiled at his thoughtfulness. For a man with a regimented military background, Cullen was never the type to blame people when life forced a change of plans.

 _E: Sounds good to me._ _You’ll love it, Cullen. I’m so excited to get you settled away from your friend and closer to work._

_C: “Friend” may be too generous a term for Carroll at this point._

_E: That bad?_

_C: Let’s just say one more week is likely all I can handle. Provided Alistair has no objections, I’d prefer to move in next weekend._

_E: He won’t. Do you need help to move things from your storage shed?_

_C: Ha! Probably. Would Zev mind if we used his SUV? I think between his and mine, we should be able to get the job done._

Eowyn glanced at her boyfriend reading her texts over her shoulder. He smiled with a nod and she gleefully responded.

_E: Zev said he will help. As though he would say anything else, Cullen! You’re just as much his friend as mine._

_C: I don’t want to impose._

_E: You are never an imposition, you know that._

_C: Thank you again for everything. I wouldn’t even be in Denerim if it weren’t for you. Tell Zev I said thanks, too. I’ll let you get back to your evening. See you at work tomorrow._

_E: You’re very welcome. Get some sleep! I’ll see you tomorrow._

Placing his phone on the bed, Cullen raked a hand through his sweaty hair, his curls freed from their styling. His mind was much clearer after his run, but his heart still leapt every time he thought back to the first handshake with Alistair.

It baffled him. He shook hands with people every day, but he’d never experienced anything like that. Though, they were strictly professional overtures with clients and other attorneys. Everything was different with Alistair. It was comfortable, relaxed, _warm,_ and it made his stomach flutter with anxiety.

No, it was absurd to entertain such thoughts. Alistair was an exemplary man, true, and he knew him better than he had any right to without _knowing_ him personally. Cullen held no illusions of the man’s charm and gregariousness being for him alone. It was merely his personality to be genial with everyone he met, he rationalized.

With a furious blush, he brushed aside the sentimental fantasies swirling in the recesses of his mind, dismissing them as dreams he was too old to indulge in. Grabbing a change of clothes, Cullen headed for the bathroom. What he needed right now was a shower. _A cold one,_ he thought ruefully. Maybe then he would be able to sleep, provided he stopped obsessing with how close he was to being free of his current living situation.

_One more week. Only seven days. You've faced worse, Rutherford._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amore mio - “my love”
> 
> Bello - masculine form of “beautiful,” term of endearment
> 
> Cara - “dear”


End file.
